


When Sinners Fall

by Marihannon



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marihannon/pseuds/Marihannon
Summary: Vaeley is a young pickpocket who lives with her fiancé, a notorious heist master known as the 'Viper'. In reality, he's a good man named Rylan, who cares for her very much. The two thieves live a modest life in their woodland cottage and are deeply in love. So what happens when that love is threatened?(This is my dnd character's backstory)





	1. Chapter 1

The walls of their small cottage stood like palace fortifications around Vaeley, the daisy-white curtains fluttering through the open windows. She knew every texture, every line in the house, from the silky window-seat pillows to the scratches the cat had left in the bedroom door frame. She could walk these rooms blind. She would know them in another life. The brush of leaves in the wind and the warm sunlight filtering through the windows were constant companions to the creaking of the old wood supports and the scent of the cinnamon incense they burned. Home. This was home. 

Perhaps the only sound more comforting than the peaceful chatter of the surrounding forest was the soft humming floating on the wind. She followed the melody through the house, stepping out into the backyard to find Rylan. 

He looked so untroubled as he sat in front of his easel and tilted his head to the side, causing his short brown curls to flop over. The almost blank canvas before him only had a few strokes of paint: warm hues of what looked like hand-spun gold and a night sky behind. His humming continued, and he added a few more stars to the mix. 

“What are you painting?” she asked. 

He jumped to sound of her voice, then turned to look at her. “Oh, Vaeley. You're home.” He rose from the stool, placing the palette down where he had just been sitting. A smirk formed on her lips as he ran his fingers through his already messy hair, drawing paint right through it. The corners of his mouth turned upward into a return smile warm enough to set her skin ablaze. 

She closed the distance between them and drew him into a tight hug, breathing in the scent of paint and lavender tea that always hung around him. “I missed you,” she said. And he missed her, too, if the strength in which he held her in his arms was any indication. 

“I got the amulet,” she whispered. “You were right. No one suspected me to be a thief.” 

He pulled away, leaning back to look her over. “You're not hurt?” 

“I'm fine, love. I promise.” She smiled again, sweetly this time. 

He leaned back in, briefly whispering a faint kiss onto her lips. “Do you have it with you?” 

“In my bag on the counter.” 

He let go of her and stepped toward the door back into the cottage, her skin already craving his touch again. “I'll go pawn it off to my fence. I should be back by nightfall, but if I'm not don't worry. You know the drill.” 

“I know,” she said. “You'll stay in the city overnight if you have to and return in the morning.” 

She watched him move toward the cottage, noting for the millionth time how his slender build gave no indication of the power his body held, not only in muscle but also in mind. He didn't become a master thief through strength alone. He stopped just before he would have disappeared through the threshold and turned back to face her. “It's you, by the way.” He pointed to the easel. “I'm painting you.” 

She looked away from him to the canvas, recognizing what she thought was gold was in reality her hair. She turned back to tell him she loved him, but he was already gone.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and by the time the sun set beyond the trees, he had not yet returned. The nights without him by her side were always cruel and lonely, almost as if the universe conspired for the coldest and darkest hours of the year to be those when she was alone. Nevertheless, she said a prayer for his safety to whatever god would listen, climbed into bed, and blew out the candle.


	2. Chapter 2

Her eyes flew open to the sound of the phone ringing across the room. Mumbling in annoyance, she climbed from bed and lit a candle, then crossed the room to pick up the phone. 

“Hello?” she croaked, her voice rough from sleep. 

Rylan’s voice answered in a tone that sent goosebumps down her spine. “Vaeley,” he said, “you need to get out of the house.” 

“What?” She wasn't quite sure she’d heard him right. “Leave the house?”

“Yes, you need--” He stopped at the sound of a stranger's voice on his end. 

“Rylan?” 

The line cut out, and Vaeley was certain the static in her ear was one of the worst sounds she’d ever heard. “Rylan!” 

She was suddenly aware of a presence somewhere in the house, far to near for comfort. And far too feral, like the wolves of her forest, but bolder, and much more dangerous. She needed to get out. Now. 

She flew to the dresser, throwing on her black leather armor and grabbing a belt of knives from the rack. Whatever she had felt was getting closer, almost as if it was in the room. 

“Hello, little Magpie,” a raspy man’s voice said, just a few feet behind her, and she spun around, only to find herself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. 

She froze, unable to move, to think. The man holding the shotgun wore a mask to cover his mouth and nose, which obliterated her view of his face. Before she regained her grip on the moment, he moved with unnatural speed, bringing the shotgun down on her head, and as she fell, the whole world was engulfed in darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing she noticed was the pounding in the side of her head. The second was the warmth washing over her body, like magic pouring into her, learning all that she is, knowing all that she is. It flowed through her veins and over her limbs, pooling in her abdomen for a moment, before evaporating completely. All the while, the world remained in the dark, and her head remained in pain. 

“Is she still alive?” a woman asked, in a voice somewhat familiar to Vaeley. 

“Yes,” a man answered--the masked man from before if the rasp in his tone was any indication. “And…” 

“And what?” The familiarity in the woman's voice itched on Vaeley's skin as her surroundings regained some focus around her. 

From the stone floor, she could make out a small dungeon beyond rusted iron bars. Judging from the heavy air and lack of light, they had to be far underground. Two figures, the masked man and the woman, stood outside the cell, both too tall for Vaeley to make out their faces. The man mumbled something to the woman, and her return laugh had shivers moving across Vaeley’s shoulder blades. She stirred, trying to get a better view of the woman’s face, only to be weighed down by her head. 

“You're awake,” the woman said as she turned to the cell. The elegant red dress hugging her figure gave away more information than the woman had probably hoped: She was wealthy enough to be unafraid of spoiling her dress in a dungeon. 

Vaeley pushed off the ground again and successfully sat up this time, ignoring how the world spun around her. “Excellent observation.”

“I'd be careful with that tongue of yours,” the man said, gesturing to the woman. “She won't hesitate to rip it out.”

Her hair, tangled and dirty, fell in her face, and she almost gasped at the state of it. She had been down here far too long, which meant these people were after one of two things: Her or Rylan. “Oh, I doubt that. You need me alive and talking, otherwise you wouldn't have taken me.” 

“You're a clever little Magpie.” The woman pulled a key from her sleeve and unlocked the door. One after the other, her two captors filed into the small cell. 

“What do you want?” She tried her best to sound tough, but the throbbing in her head and the dizziness overcoming her had her sounding much more pitiful than she had hoped. 

“Magpie, do you truly not recognize me?” the woman asked. Vaeley shook her head, an almost truth. The woman sighed as she reached behind her neck, unclasping a chain hidden beneath her neckline. She held the chain up, and dangling on the end was an amulet. _The_ amulet Rylan had taken to be sold. 

“Where did you get that?” Vaeley demanded, trying and failing to stand. “Where is he?”

The woman laughed at her attempt to rise, then continued to explain, “You ought be the one to tell me that. There's a bounty on the Viper’s head, as you know, and I intend to be the one to collect it, or at least my band of bounty hunters will be. There was a tracking spell on this amulet. When you stole it, you led me right to your home, right to you, and right to your lover. Although it’s a pity he figured it all out before I could reach him, I know just the person to tell me where he's hiding.”

Vaeley kept her mouth sealed, refusing to utter a word. She knew exactly where he was, but she'd be damned if she let a bounty hunter touch him. 

“Magpie,” the man warned, his voice like broken glass, “just tell her where he is.” 

Still she shook her head. 

“So be it.” The woman turned on her heel and left the cell, the man right on her tail. “I know your secret, Magpie.” 

Vaeley’s blood turned to ice. No. She couldn't know. “What secret?” 

“Don't play dumb.” The woman stopped just as she had begun to close the door. “You have the Viper’s child growing inside you, and if you want what's best for your baby, you'll tell me where he is.” 

“Don't threaten my child,” Vaeley said, wrapping her arms around herself, an attempt to fight the cold. The woman merely shot her a twisted grin before disappearing into the hall. 

The man stalked towards her, looking more gentle than he had a few moments ago. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

She snorted. Of course he was. “What's she paying you?” 

“Nothing. I'm just as stuck as you are.” 

Somehow she didn't doubt it. “Threatening your family, too?” 

He leaned against the wall and looked down at her. “My mother.”

She was silent for a while. Before she asked, “How did she know?”

“I told her.” 

“How did _you_ know?” 

“Magic.” He flicked his wrist, and a few flames danced across his fingertips. “I cast a spell to make sure you were still alive, only to detect two lives in one body. You may have felt it when you were waking up.” So that explained the feeling she experienced. 

“You're a sorcerer?”

“That's warlock to you.”

“Help me get out of here,” she whispered.

“Where would you go?” He pushed off the wall and made for the door. 

“To my love.” 

“And have me hunt you both down like animals?” He removed his hooded cloak, revealing sandy hair and tanned skin, and peeled the mask off his face. “What's your name, Magpie?” 

She paused for a moment, unsure of whether to trust him. His pale eyes burned into her as she stared at his face. “Vaeley,” she said eventually. 

“Dawson,” he said by way of introduction. “Can you read?”

She nodded, not knowing why he would need that information. “The Viper taught me.” Before she could ask why he wanted to know, he tossed her his cloak and stepped into the hall, slamming the door shut before moving out of her view. The cloak was warm and welcome as she wrapped it around herself, only to find some bread and a note crumpled within. 

_Left from your cell, and up the stairs. Show us how well you can sneak, Magpie._

She wasn't certain how many hours, or days even, she had been held captive. And there was no certainty on where she was, for all she knew, she could be far out of the country. But one thing was for sure: She was getting out of here. 

The door opened with a click, the shadows in the hall shifting as Dawson’s cloak flowed behind her. The directions he left her lead directly to a stairwell, which she followed up for what felt like miles, eventually reaching a heavy wooden door. 

The only sign of her presence was the creaking of the hinges as she slipped through and found herself in a small hallway. To the right, she could hear music through a closed door, a party, no doubt, but to the left a bright beam of sunlight filtered through a open window. Perfect. 

She stepped lightly, rolling through her feet like she had learned to all those years ago, silent and quick footwork. Shielding her eyes from the burning sun, Vaeley stepped out into the open air, finally feeling as if she could breathe. 

The countryside surrounding her had no end aside from the mountains miles away. Seemingly limitless fields of grass only ceased momentarily where the river cut through the valley. From here, she could make out birds flying over a small forest laying along the river banks. If the color green could have a smell, this was it: fresh, bright, and utterly hopeful. 

With one step then another, she left her captor’s manor behind her, and began her journey home.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time she reached the river, the sun had disappeared beyond the mountains, leaving her with little light to see and no means of awareness. The gurgling water rushed with an intensity far too dangerous to cross in the dark, not that light would have made much of a difference to the crashing rapids. She heaved a sigh, turning to follow the river downstream, directly to the woods. 

The cold came quickly, brushing over the valley in a sweep of bitterness only the night could bring. Her feet froze, and she couldn't tell what was worse: the numbness she felt now or the aching from before. The hills of the forest housed so many dense trees she eventually lost the sound of the river, and her sight entirely. All the while, her head grew lighter, the hunger finally catching up with her. 

She was climbing a hill, feeling out in front of her as to not run into a tree, when her hand hit something cold, something solid. Rock. A cliff stood before her, endless as far as she could make out in the darkness. She sought out a handhold, a foothold, any kind of hold she could get, but the stone felt slick and smooth, so with one hand on the wall and the other reached out in front, she walked along the cliff face, searching for its end. 

That was when the scent reached her nose, a faint but familiar mix of paint and lavender tea. Her heart soared, as if the mere sense of him was enough to bring her home. “Rylan!” she yelled into the night. 

Silence followed, until--“I'm coming.” His voice came from somewhere near enough to restrict her breathing. “Stay where you are.” 

He was here. He was here. He was here. 

The brush of running footsteps against leaves approached her, and the scent of him grew stronger. Before she even had time to process how close he was, his arms had wrapped around and pulled her to his chest. 

He was here. He was here. He was here. 

“We need to get out of here,” she murmured, but he refused to let go, burying his face where her shoulder met her neck. “Rylan.” 

“I thought they killed you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I thought you were dead. I came here to kill them, to avenge you.” 

The relief finally got a hold of her, and she broke down, letting herself cry. Rylan’s tears fell to join her own, as they stood there and held each other for what felt like an eternity. It was not long enough. 

Eventually, he let go and mumbled, “You smell horrible.”

“I've been locked in a dungeon for however long.” She wiped the tears from her face, smearing grime across her cheek. “You can't expect me to smell like daisies and rainbows.” 

“What did they do to you?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Tell me everything.”

So she did. She told it all, from the moment he left, to the moment he found her, fighting the exhaustion and hunger the entire time. 

“I'll kill them all,” he said, the fury in his voice unlike anything she had ever heard in him before. “I swear I'll kill them all.” 

“No. Right now, we need to get out of here.” She took a step back, swaying slightly in dizziness. “If you go in there full of rage, they'll have the… the advantage.”

He paused. “Are you okay?” 

Her only response was collapsing to the ground. She was faintly aware of his arms lifting her limp body from the forest floor.


	5. Chapter 5

When she awoke, Rylan was still carrying her, and the sun was beginning to rise. She looked up at his face in the morning light, his green eyes staring ahead, unreadable and stern, so unlike the raw emotion she usually found in them. 

“I love you,” she said. 

He glanced down at her, the coldness melting from his expression. “I love you, too.” 

Next thing she knew, the sun was high in the sky. Midday, meaning she must have dozed off again. 

“Please,” Rylan said to someone she could not see. “My fiancée is dying.” 

A gruff chuckle answered. “You better make this worth my while.” 

“We can pay you any amount. Just please help us.” 

A pause, the other man contemplating. “Get in the cart,” he finally answered. 

“Where am I?” Vaeley asked, the world still a blur of colors and motions around her as Rylan walked her over to a horse-drawn cart. A road stretched on behind him, surrounded on either side by a vast forest. The trees reached towards the sky, fluttering in the wind and casting shadows on the dirt trail. 

He placed her gently on the back of the cart so her feet dangled off the edge, seemingly relieved to be free of the dead weight. “We’re on the road back to our town. This farmer was passing by and agreed to let you ride in the back of his cart.” 

She glanced about, finding that between all the wheat, there was only room for one person to sit. “You're going to walk the whole way?” 

“I'll be fine.” Drawing her eye to it, the sunlight hit the buckle on his leather armor where his belt of knives hung around his waist, disguised to look like nothing more than a regular belt. It was his idea, like most things were, to make those belts, and it had served them well, given hers was still wrapped over her shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” She didn't like the idea of him walking for miles without rest, especially after carrying her for hours. “We can stop and wait for another cart to--” 

Her words were cut short by an arrow whizzing past her head. Another embedded itself in the cart beside her. Another at Rylan's feet. 

“What the hell?” The farmer urged his horse into a trot. “What the hell have you people gotten me involved with?” 

“Bounty hunters!” Rylan yelled, breaking into a run. Sure enough, a horde of mounted hunters came galloping around the corner, many of them firing arrows. “How did they find us?” 

The same way they found them before. Dawson's cloak tore slightly as she ripped it from her body, throwing the fabric as far as she could. That damned traitor of a sorcerer. 

Rylan caught up to run beside the farmer and told him, “However fast that horse of yours can run, go. Get her out of here.” He tossed him his pouch of money, probably worth more than the farmer’s entire land. 

The horse took off, arrows still bombarding the cart that Rylan was slowly falling behind. “Whatever happens, if we get separated, if the hunters catch up,” he said to her, running in zig-zag lines, “don't get off that cart. Leave me behind if you have to.” 

For a moment, it seemed like they would make it out, the hunters still far behind, plenty of trees for him to seek refuge in if he needed, then for the first time in a long time, she felt helpless as an arrow buried itself in Rylan’s neck. 

“Rylan!” The name escaped her lips before his body hit the ground, the thud of it shattering her entirely. The dirt path below her flew by in streaks of brown and grey as she prepared to throw herself from the cart. 

Rylan looked up at her, blood flowing from his lips. “Go,” he seemed to mouth. “Go.” 

The cart bobbled on, the farmer murmuring in alarm up front, as the hunters charged and circled Rylan’s body. Her last glimpse of him showed his face filled with fear, and moments late, his scream of agony bellowed from within the swarm of horses. She didn't know what was worse, the scream itself or the realization that it brought about: They had killed him. 

“No,” she said, as if the word could reverse anything. 

“No.” As if the word could pause time. 

“No.” As if the word could stop the hunters. 

“No.” As if the word could pull the arrow out of his body and breathe life into him again. 

As if it could help. As if she could help. 

The cart turned a corner, still flying at full speed, and she lost sight of the hunters.


	6. Chapter 6

What happened after was forgotten in a blur of grief and heartache, a haze of anger. Her next memory consisted of a baby being born in a small shack somewhere in the city. Then memories of a job, a small wage for cleaning kitchens. Gloom and sorrow blanketed her, until she watched a baby girl, curly brown hair and green eyes, smile and laugh, just at the sight of her face. A child of joy. Her child. 

The days became easier piece by piece, but she doubted any amount of time would be enough to fully heal her. There was a hole in her heart, shaped like the man she once loved, whose name she had not even whispered since the day she had screamed it as he fell. And shaped like a small cottage in the woods, where she had once found a home but never returned. 

Almost six years after, she was still haunted by the those woods, despite living far from them in a seaside city. She needed a chance to start over, somewhere to flee from her past, somewhere her daughter wouldn't be a victim to it. 

Maybe some divine being heard her prayers because while retrieving her mail one day, she discovered a flyer asking for help in a faraway land. The jobs available were for battle-tested adventurers and anyone able to save a failing country. Though she had a lack skill regarding any of those, perhaps there was a need for a cleaner or a servant, either of which she could do, _had been_ doing for years.

So, hand in hand with her daughter, Vaeley began her new life with one step onto a boat, where a ginger dwarven man stood surrounded by a mix-matched group of warriors and sorcerers and monks.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not  
> He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve got  
> Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please  
> Don’t take that sinner from me
> 
> -Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars


End file.
